Friday, December 02, 2011

You Don't Just Want to Break Me, You Want to Tear Me Apart

I love writing negative reviews. I love trashing bad comics. I fucking love it. I also love writing positive reviews. I love praising good comics. Mostly because I love my job. As a reviewer, all I'm asked to do is read something and then spend 500 words telling you what I think about it, hopefully in an entertaining and well-written fashion. I'll certainly cop to falling down on that last part sometimes, but never on telling you what I honestly think (except for that Secret Invasion #8 review -- and I've apologised for that numerous times -- it was early in my professional career and haunts me to this very day). To me, a positive review is something that happens when I read a good comic and a negative review is something that happens when I read a bad comic (and an average review happens when I read a mediocre comic, which is far more likely). But, that's not how everyone sees it usually it seems.

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I've never been on the same page as everyone when it comes to negativity. It seems that, in comics, negativity is the enemy much of the time. You need to be positive about comics! Comics are fragile little birds that need love and warmth to grow and if you continually point out how shitty a lot of them are, well, comics could disappear. And it would be your fault, you negative, hateful motherfucker. Comics are for entertainment! Stop thinking so much, sit back, just enjoy them for what they are. Comics were meant for kids, how good do you expect them to be? Comics are meant for people who already know comics, how good do you expect them to be? If you don't have anything nice to say, you shouldn't say anything at all. You shouldn't review comics you don't already like. If you loved comics, you wouldn't say such mean things. The people making those comics tried really, really hard and you shouldn't dismiss those efforts so easily. You shouldn't take joy in hurting the feelings of another human being. What you say can cost someone money. Their job. Their house.

Christ...

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Negativity always seemed more worthwhile. Praising quality has always seemed somewhat empty in a way. What does it accomplish? It makes people feel good, maybe points people in the direction of something great, and provides a nice quote for press releases (or tweets or covers or whatever). And I do like celebrating the things I love. There's a reason why I do a 'best of the year' list and several posts spotlighting other comics I thought were great (or interesting) and worth notice. But, it never seems as useful as tearing something apart and revealing it for the useless piece of shit that it is. Focusing on the positive is too much like living in denial. If you ignore the crap, it doesn't go away, it's allowed to grow. The whole concept of setting a good example by praising books is about as effective as the idea that Superman acts as an inspiration for humanity. Does it change a few people? Sure. That's it, though. Part of it is that I both understand the difference in how people perceive positivity and negativity, and I don't understand it. It's okay to be honest and perhaps a little hyperbolic in my writing style when I love something, but it's not when I hate something. It's okay to be gleeful in praise, but not in harsh criticism... I understand why people see things that way (and I see things that way myself to a degree), but it strikes me as fundamentally unfair and hypocritical.

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If something is great, you know what we say? It was worth the money spent. Meaning, it held up its end of the transaction. Part of me sees positive reactions as the standard, the bare minimum in a sense. I paid my three (or four or whatever) bucks and expected a good comic. I should be overjoyed when I get a good comic? Really? Bravo, you produced a 4 star comic! That's the goddamn job. That's what people are paying for. When a comic is bad, it's not living up to its end of the bargain. It's the terrible meal you got at a restaurant. It's something below standards. That's (one of the reasons) why negativity feels more essential, more necessary: it points out the things that aren't delivering what's promised. They're the wastes of money. And time. And effort.

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I tend to hate it when creators e-mail me about reviews, positive or negative. Because I'm simply doing my job and being honest. I couldn't give a fuck about who makes the comics. I really couldn't, because what does it matter? I don't know these people, I'm not their friend nor their enemy. A positive review is the same as a negative review. I'm not doing anyone a favour by liking their comic book. That's not something to thank me for. On a personal level, I'm sure it's gratifying that I, as a reader, enjoy what you do and that's fine, but, as a critic, it's immaterial. Because I could have just as easily hated it and I would have wrote a negative review about it and, after that, felt the exact same as I did when I wrote the positive review. What it really comes down to is that I didn't do anything special when I wrote that glowing review of your work -- just as I didn't do anything mean or cruel by writing that review that completely tore all of your hard work to shreds. It's the same thing to me, it's the job.

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This may sound terribly mean, but I'd much rather see 'death watch' lists on comics sites for comics that they think should be cancelled for qualitative reasons, not economic ones. I honestly could care less about what comics sell. What business is it of mine? It doesn't chance my buying habits much. Hell, whenever a comic is selling low and people start trying to raise awareness about it to prevent it from getting shitcanned, I wonder why they weren't already doing that if they supposedly love that comic so much. Why weren't you so active in trying to get it readers when there wasn't a danger of it going away? There's no good answer to that question, by the way. The only answer is laziness and the sort of thinking that leads to people blaming a last minute loss on a single action in a sporting event instead of everything that led to that moment being so pivotal. I've stopped getting upset over the economic realities of comics (and TV and movies and books and music). Quality will be ignored and disappear; mediocrity will be loved and flourish. That's the way it goes generally with exceptions -- many, many exceptions usually, more than you'd imagine exist.

Fuck sales numbers.

Leave that shit up to the people who are actually affected by them, which probably isn't you or me. If you cared so much, you'd put a much larger focus on what's good and what's bad. You would make the efforts to promote those things you love right away, not when they're in danger; you would also try to get rid of the horrible shit that clutters the shelves, the fucking gravel that chokes the flowers (or whatever your preferred metaphor is). It's not a one-way street and you already make those decisions to a degree. Seriously. When you don't buy something, you're basically saying "I want that to be cancelled because it's not worth my money." But, fuck, god forbid you're active about it. God forbid you hurt someone's feelings. You've already made the decision that a large group of people aren't worth your money... is it wrong to say that out loud? Sometimes I don't know. Sometimes I wonder if that isn't what we need.

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It's not so much 'fuck positivity,' more that you need both and I wish people would realise that.

About

Chad Nevett has a BA in English and political science, and an MA in English Language & Literature--Creative Writing. He was a reviewer for Comic Book Resources, blogger for Comics Should be Good, and writer for 411mania. He resides in Windsor, Ontario with his wife and her cat. He can be reached at chevett13[at]yahoo[dot]ca.